


My Knife's at the Table with Yours

by goldenheadfreckledheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post s2 finale, quick reunion drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:18:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3529118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheadfreckledheart/pseuds/goldenheadfreckledheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quick drabble fic because Monika (aka Captainsasschabod/Sw33td3m0n on tumblr) said:</p><p>Bellamy you better be the one to initiate a hug on your third reunion with Clarke or help me god.</p><p>We all need fluff in this time of need.</p><p>(Title from “Portal” by Lights)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Knife's at the Table with Yours

When he finally saw her again, it was weeks later. He wasn’t really sure how many, it didn’t really matter.

He was out hunting. Not that he really had to be—there were others who would offer to go in his place in a second. He was some kind of hero to them now. No, he went because he needed the space. He went because, in many ways, he knew exactly why Clarke left. Sometimes he wanted to leave too, but he was needed here.  _Take care of them for me…_

It haunted him. But not the way it haunted her. The things they’d done, she’d taken the brunt of it. He wished he could have been there with her for more of it, but he couldn’t. So he understood why she needed time, understood why he had to let her go.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He flipped the knife in his hand and thrust it into a nearby tree trunk before sliding down to sit among its roots. Things were getting better, but he still liked having time to himself. He heaved a heavy sigh.

Minutes passed. He wasn’t really sure how many, it didn’t really matter.

Some time later, he heard the snap of twigs and jerked his head up to see a deer through the trees.  _Might as well do what he was out there to do._

He was barely back on his feet when he heard a shot ring out. The deer fell. A perfect shot.

“Do you think they’ll let me back in if I bring food?”

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He was attuned to it now, after all they’d been through.

She stood just feet away from him, among the trees. Dirty, worn, exhausted, blonde hair a mess. A sad, wry smile on her face.

“…I mean I did technically steal your kill—”

Before she could finish, he’d closed the space between them, scooping her up in his arms. 

After a second, she melted into him, her hands curling into his hair. He heard her stifle a watery sniff.

“I don’t think anyone’s actually going to keep the prodigal daughter from returning home,” he said into her hair.

She laughed against his chest, her arms tightening around him.

Seconds passed and they stayed that way, enveloped in the other’s warmth. He wasn’t really sure how many, it didn’t really matter.

“Are you ready?” he asked when they finally pulled apart.

She smiled a small smile up at him, “I am.”

He didn’t ask where she’d gone. She’d tell him when the time was right.


End file.
